


Shipwreck

by leonheart2012



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Global Warming, Other, Sentient Objects, people dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonheart2012/pseuds/leonheart2012
Summary: As a young schooner, I was head-strong and confident; and it turned out to be my downfall. I now rest at the bottom of the sea, crawling with life, but things are starting to go wrong...





	1. Dreams and Planes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little bit of a strange one, but I've been working on it for a few years now. I don't really expect anyone to read it, but here goes...

My boards creak as the currents and winds tug at my rigging. My sails are pregnant with the soft gales that mark a calm, sunny day. I feel my load, heavy on my back, and I find comfort in my purpose.

I know this dream. It has brought me many memories from the past, but no comfort dreamt is substitute for the real thing. I long for the rough hands of the current, pushing and pulling at my flanks. I miss the breath of the skies, guiding my body to slice through the waters. And though I feel guilty for it, I miss the salty taste of my lover’s gifts. She would throw them high into the air, congealing on my decks in puddles.

I was always loathe to wash my decks, but I knew what happens to ships like myself who never wash themselves – we rot and fall into decay – and so I let my crew wash me, content in the knowledge that those puddles of tears would be soon replaced.

Those puddles are to be replaced no longer. I now rest in the belly of my once lover – never to be missed, never to be found again. I held no treasure, no secrets. I sank not because another brought me down, but because of my own foolishness. I dove into uncharted waters, believing myself to be safe. How I was wrong to doubt my lover’s wrath for those who disobey her.

I hit a reef, and now my bones hold a host of guests, most of whom I share willingly with fish of all kinds. There are some I greedily hold close to my chest, hidden from the light beneath my ribs. Most of what survives there is seaweed, but there are some that are similar to me – skeletons which I snatch from the soft currents of these parts. The currents here laugh at me for my foolishness – their mother is known to be unforgiving, and yet I rebelled.

If there is one thing I miss the most, it is the sight of my brothers and sisters sailing high upon the waves next to me. Out here, on the rocks and soft sand, they do not pass over my head. Even if it were only to laugh at me, I miss their voices – the high pitch of young schooners like myself and the deep growl of old military vessels.

I feel, every day, the coral clinging to me dying. They lose their grip as the waters heat, falling away under her rage. I know not why she is angry, but as she heats, I find myself unable to resist – old habits die hard. Since I used to be a victim of her inner turmoil, I now find myself angered, even though her fury seems to have an unmarked target. I do not feel the presence of vibrations – things that have angered her in the past. I do not see any submarines, heavy with the weapons of scared or angry men, although they would not pass so close to me.

I have asked the fish – both resident and visitor. None can tell me what has angered her, and yet they all suffer. How I wish I could comfort my lady, but alas – my bow is buried in sand, grown wild with friends. Sometimes, I ask the sharks to see if they can do anything – I’ve often asked them to enlist the help of turtles and whales, those wise old creatures of the ocean, but they say that none can help. They tell horrible stories of plastics and rotating rudders, killing my friends of the sea. And each day, I see less and less fish swimming in amongst my old bones.

How many years have passed since I was last on the waters? Can my brothers and sisters have changed so much? Surely these fish lie? But there are so many with the same stories – and so many tell it with the sadness of loss. This is how I know the world above this blue-green solitude has gone crazy. They come to me, looking for comfort, a home – and I give them what I can, but my friends are dying around me. It surprises me how much I relied on them.

Fish come from other reefs, with stories that shake me to my core – stories of whole families gone white as ash; stories of others whose solid foundations were ripped out from underneath them; stories of humans wearing suits and collecting living samples of our homes, friends and families. And they all tell the same sad ending; ‘everything was lost, and we were powerless to stop them’. I try to hug my friends to my chest – clutch them with all my strength – but my limbs are set in the sand, unable to move.

One day, a huge shadow passes over me, and I catch sight of the largest bird in the world – it crashes into the sea near me, and I ask a fish to see what it is. How could a bird so big and graceful be so clumsy? The fish swims back to me in shock and horror.

‘It is no bird, schooner. It is a plane! I have seen one of its kind before! It was buried deep, unlike this one. There are people! They are drowning! They have no special suits. They are running out of oxygen.'

'You must help them!' I exclaim.

'I cannot help them – I am merely a fish.’

‘But surely a shark would help. A whale, perhaps. Someone big and strong.’ I ask with growing apprehension.

‘The sharks will tear them apart. They have no love for humans, and the whales have been hunted by them for generations. The only ones who may help are the dolphins, but they’ve gone away for breeding.’

‘Then they shall die?’

‘I am afraid so, schooner. There is nothing we can do.’

I keep my silence, praying that someone helps them, saves them. I cannot, for I am as good as glued to my resting place, tethered by the sand that acts as my bed and coffin both.

Hours pass, but no one comes to save the people. I think I can hear their screams for help, if I really focus. I try not to, but their panicked voices drown out my own thoughts. I try to bury myself further in the sand, but I've been stuck in the same prison for many years, and I make no progress. Sensing my distress, the fish around me flee into their homes. I don't blame them; I'm usually so very calm, and they don't know how to deal with this. The currents that were once either caressing or mocking become thundering hooves across my bare ribs. The water rushes past my ears, disorienting me. All the while, I hear the terrified cries of my past crew as I ran aground, the splashes of them abandoning my decks, leaving me to sink and rot even further at the bottom of this reef. And to top it all off, the distant sobs of the victims of the plane crash die down, being drowned out by the water seeping into their lungs.

Anguished, I send out a cry of my own, shifting all of my boards, trying to wriggle free of my captor. The fish in their homes quiver with fear. My protests echo out into the empty water.

After a long time, I relax back into my original place, having made almost no progress. I'm exhausted, and against my will, my eyes close and I fall into a long, deep sleep.


	2. The Old and the New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After my deep sleep, I wake to find myself more alone than ever...

When I next wake, my bones are packed even tighter with coral, but it's all white. I feel no movement amongst my ribs, some of which have completely rotted away. I call for my friends I once knew. A passing shark informs me that my friends have abandoned my body, which was thought to be dead. I stare at him in disbelief.

'How long have I slept?'

'How should I know? I wasn't here when you fell asleep.'

'What became of the plane?'

'Plane?'

'The one that crashed in the ocean. That was when I went to sleep.'

The shark thought about that for a minute, swimming in large circles. 'My great aunt was supposedly a local around here. Maybe you could ask one of her children, because she's dead now.'

'That would be wonderful. Could you bring one of her children to me?'

The shark laughed. 'I don't know where they are.  I might see them next migration, but they'll probably have children of their own then.'

'But if they-'

'Look, I really can't help you, buddy. I need to get to my wife.'

'Please, do not leave. I need to know-' but he is already gone. I decide to save my voice, for it is scratchy where it was once soft and smooth. I feel the ocean close in on me as I sink into another panic much like the one I had before my hibernation. I push the panic down - surely another fish must pass this way.

A time that can only be measured in hours passes before I see another living creature. It is a whale this time, and I marvel once again at its beauty; it has been so long since I have seen a creature so big and graceful. Its appearance fills me with confusion. The waters here are too shallow for such a beast to pass. I shout warnings at her, but she laughs at me.

'Why do you laugh? You will surely die if you become beached on this reef!' I exclaim, trying to get her to turn around.

Her laughter echoes around the ocean. It's a lovely sound - so very deep and in the trademark sing-song way of whales. 'The ocean parted a path long ago, schooner.' She says with a smile. 'You must certainly be old to not know this. How long have you been stranded on that bank of sand?'

'I'm not entirely sure any more. Do you think you could help me to find out?'

'I truly am sorry, but I have not the time. I must get to the breeding grounds to conceive and birth my young. There is a right time for everything; I shall return to you with my young when I can.' Her song fades as she swims away from my resting place, and I am left lonely once again. I look sadly at my limbs, old and rotted through, coated in the white, dead bodies of those I once called friends.

I feel so utterly lost and alone - how could this possibly be happening? Was my lady not once full with life? Did she get old? Is she sick? I never thought she could become these things. When I rode upon her waves, she would whistle stories of how she was millions of years old, and could survive anything. She told stories of earth moving, meteors survived, oils spilt and volcanoes erupting and the lava being stopped by her cool touch. What is it now that prevents her healing?


	3. Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding the sea empty of all help, I sink into despair and mourn the loss of my lover, who is sure to die from whatever it is that is ailing her.

Days pass without further meeting, or contact of any kind. I know that there is no one who would come and speak with me: I know now that there is no one who would help the sea back to her former calm state. As more days pass, I begin the slow and silent process of mourning. I know it will be months before the whale comes back with her young, if she comes back at all, which leaves me with time aplenty to complete my self-appointed task.

My mourning starts as all mourning should; with the crying out of names and curses. I call her name: I call to the demons of the Earth and blame them: I call to the angels, begging them to save her: I call the spirits, both old and young, to breathe life back into her. Then, as my voice grows hoarse, I sink into a depression so deep, I swear I can feel myself burrowing further into my sandy grave.

Despair washes over me in a cruel imitation of the waves that had once held me high, and I feel the strong desire to rot away completely. Feeling I have done my duty, I allow myself to rise out of my mourning, and find myself just as alone and just as trapped. It’s somewhat disappointing, even though it was exactly what I was expecting.

Mourning has to be done alone, it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, I guess. I really enjoyed writing this - it gives life to my thoughts and ideas, and I really like the way it's all come together. I was going to make it longer, but I think the work has achieved its purpose, so here is where I leave it.


End file.
